Someone Before
by Ikiyo Rei
Summary: "We were all once someone before, Jack." Featuring all the Guardians, but more Jack-centric in a way. My take on how each Guardian was before they became who they are now.
1. Beginning

**Author's Note: **This story is inspired by Tooth Fairy and Jack Frost. I don't own Rise of The Guardians, but I am definitely in love with Jack Frost. 3

First chapter's short, but it's a beginning (:

* * *

Jack Frost was being Jack Frost.

What had announced his arrival was the loud bang of the front door and a huge gust of cold wind before a gaily laughter echoed around North's workshop. The yetis began to shout "ASDFGHJKKL" while the elves rushed out of the winter spirit's way before he froze them all.

His snowy white hair seemed to blend in with the flurries of snowflakes trailing behind him. Mischievous blue eyes scanned the surroundings before locking on his target: the Globe. He smirked to himself. He hadn't tried it before- freezing the sphere thingy that showed the children of the world.

He looked around; the Guardians weren't back yet, it seemed. Yetis and elves he could handle, but not North or Bunnymund. Carefully, he flew above the spinning globe.

That's when he noticed it.

_How odd._

The solid bronze axis the Globe was spinning on had four different pictures embossed on it. His long pale fingers flexed out, tracing each picture gently. His eyebrows arched when he realised the pictures were very familiar...almost as if he had seen them before...somewhere.

He touched the nearest one: diamond shaped with a winged being in it.

And he pressed.


	2. Toothiana

**Author's Note: **Firstly, whoa. Thank you so much for favouriting/following/reviewing this story! I didn't expect 65 notifications overnight with such a short chapter! Thank you so much! It makes me a super happy camper haha (: So here's the second chapter and I hope I didn't disappoint. _  
_

* * *

_Jack pressed the figure with wings encased in a diamond shaped emblem._

_He was suddenly sucked into another world, whirling, swirling. And then a familiar female voice, that he remembered used to be full of cheer, was now forlorn, full of sorrow and regret..._

_Yet wishful thinking..._

* * *

When I awoke, I saw sparkles of brilliance dancing before my very eyes. The next thing to hit me was gold—really illuminating gold.

I was standing on shaky legs. The fogginess had lifted and a strange feeling overwhelmed me. I was in a golden palace, enshrouded with nature, with water flushing past and roaring down a fall and lanky trees that bloomed with pink flowers. My legs shook as I blearily moved forward, one small step at a time. Why was I feeling so unstable? Why did I feel unbalanced?

I looked down at my feet and gasped. My feet! Where were they? I blinked through tears as I saw what was left of my legs: tiny green furry...things. That's when my body got my attention. Fur! I was covered in fur! Luminous green and violet fur to be more exact. My hands were still skin, thankfully as I felt the fur growing on me. But it wasn't rough nor did it feel like hair.

_Feathers. _I was covered in feathers.

I brought my hands up to my face, tracing, feeling. Skin met skin, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I combed through my hair, as what I would habitually do when I panicked, but all I combed through was feathers. I walked, unsteadily, to a golden pillar. The reflection I saw wasn't a me I recognised.

My face was framed with green and violet feathers, with a yellow crest at the top. My body was mostly feathered as well...I peered closer. My eyes...were violet. Violet! Well, yes, they were really pretty, but I never had violet eyes before! I had...I had...

And then suddenly, something else caught my eye. I turned around, slowly and carefully, and had the fourth shock of my life.

Unmistakably and almost surely, I had wings. They (or it?) clung to my back, unwilling to come apart. I shook my back a little, uncertain how to make it, well, fly. There had to be nerves on my back somewhere that connected to the wings...it's how birds and insects fly, right?

From my scientific knowledge, nerves connected the wings to the brain and the brain told them to move. I closed my eyes and thought really hard: I want to fly.

I felt it before I heard it. My back muscles tensed up before shifting, and for the very first time, I felt light. A buzzing noise...,no, lighter than buzzing..._flitting. _Now I had a good look of my wings. I identified three pairs (or was it four?) of insect wings as I flitted around, testing out my new-found ability.

I landed on the peak of some sort of mountainous hive. The palace seemed empty, echoing so much loneliness. As I looked down on myself, I knew I wasn't always like this.

I sat down, struggling to remember. My vision faded and then I heard the silver tinkles of laughter...

* * *

"Daddy!" I giggled as big strong arms carried me, spinning me around. My legs left the ground as the world around me swirled into one big cloud of green. I heard his deep throaty laughter before the two of us collapsed dizzily onto a carpet of grass. Our bodies were wracked with nothing but laughter.

"Matthew!"A sharp female voice cut through the air and both of us turned our attention to the woman standing on the front porch. She was wearing a simple top with a pair of jeans that showed off the length of her legs. Her short brown hair framed her face, as her eyebrow arched up, awaiting an answer impatiently. Her hands were on her hips and she did not looked pleased.

My father shot me a look that said "busted" and I stifled my giggles. He got up on his bare feet and dusted his pants. "Hey, Elizabeth," he cleared his throat sheepishly. "Isn't the weather nice today? The sun's up and bright, clouds are in the sky...let's go for a-" Her long finger was on his lips instantly.

"Matthew." She repeated slowly, her eyes fixed. "What have I said about throwing our daughter about?"

"Um. Heh heh." He gave a lopsided grin, and my mother rolled her eyes. Her eyes landed on me, and I grinned widely, despite being covered in dirt, showing off my perfect white teeth. She smiled back, a warm smile that touched her ears.

"Come on, Ingrid," she said. "Ignore your father. Let's have a nice bath, shall we?"

I stood up, and lumbered towards her clumsily. She lifted me up and I nuzzled into her embrace as she sang.

"_Sunlight beats down hard here _  
_Count the cracks in the ground _  
_And we sleep through days of flood and fire _  
_At night we fly above this town..."_

I was three then. Thirteen years had passed, but I still had my perfect white teeth to flash around town. My parents, who were tree-huggers like me, always made it the family habit of going down to the forest near the lake for a picnic every Sunday. We would have pancakes, honey syrup, fruit punch, never meat. We were self-declared vegetarians after all, being nature lovers.

But what made it so special, especially this Sunday, was because of the fact that I was sixteen. Or I was turning sixteen. It was a treat so my mother made it extra special: she had baked a vanilla cream cake for me! (If you're asking why vanilla cream, it's because nobody could tell I stained my teeth!)

We spent most of the day eating and enjoying the crystal blue lake. We retreated to the trees once we had dried our legs and went exploring. I was the science nerd back in school, memorising every tree in the town and stalking the wildlife roaming about freely. I knew the squirrels, the deers and the birds. They were like my friends, in a way. A grey squirrel shot up a tree as we trudged through the grasses.

We shared whispered and pointed towards every deer that we came across. We laughed when my mother accidentally got caught in a mudhole. [We took pictures of it to use as blackmail (;] We trekked back home but nevertheless, feeling very accomplished.

We did this for thirteen years, and nothing happened to us. Nothing bad, more specifically. But it was the week after that took a drastic turn.

We were picnicking again, like what we always did for thirteen years. Pancakes, honey syrup, fruit punch- you'd think that we would get sick of it, but it's what we loved. We'd sing the happy Hummingbird Song by Tom McRae. We would chorus the bridge while trekking:

_"Now we're coming down_  
_Now we're coming down_  
_We're coming down."_

And that's what we did, with me trekking at the back, as always. And then, suddenly, something caught my eye. It was fast, but my eyes were faster. My parents always said that I had sharp eyesight; the ability to see the smallest of things even from far away. It was green and purple and it was fast.

"Mum! Dad!" I whispered fiercely, as I realised they were still trekking onwards. At my voice, they turned. "What is it?" my father asked, but I shushed him before he could ask further, and pointed. Their eyes couldn't see it at first, but when the green purple thing flashed past again, I heard a quick intake of breath before my mother murmured, "It's a hummingbird."

My eyes were wide when I heard that. Hummingbirds rarely came to our town, let alone the forest. They usually fed on flowers, not forest trees, so why was a hummingbird flitting about here? I made a split second decision.

"I'm going to take a closer look," I said. My parents were about to protest, but I cut them off. "It's the _forest_. We've been here a thousand times, and I am familiar with it. So don't worry."

"But, Ingrid," my mother said. "It's still dangerous! There's many predators lurking about that we don't know of! We're coming with you." On that note, we carefully stepped my way towards the hummingbird. It was only then I realised it was always flitting about in the same place. It was moving, of course, but moving in a specific area. And then a sudden realisation smacked me as we approached it closer.

I was right. The poor hummingbird was trapped in a cage, flitting about to and fro in a fluster. My father gasped. "Who could have done such a thing!" he thundered.

"Quick, get it out of the cage!" my mother directed. "The poor thing's worn out!" It was indeed. There was no place to land, except the uncomfortable steel wires of the cage.

My father proceeded to lift the hatch, but it was wired so painfully that it hurt just to unwind it. He let out a string of curses as the sharp edges cut into his thumb, drawing blood. "It's no good," he muttered. "I need my toolkit for this kind of job." The hummingbird gave us a pitiful look, almost pleading.

"Can't we do anything else to help it?" I begged.

My mother immediately set down the picnic basket she had been holding and took out the knife used to cut the pancakes. "How about this?" she suggested, handing it to my father.

His response was a grateful kiss on the lips and I almost puked at that. "Cough-cough-_getaroom_-cough."

He ignored me, and began sawing at the cage. And then he collapsed to the ground. It caught us by surprise. My mother paled.

"Matthew?" And then she was down as well. I shrieked. "Mum! Dad!"

Something shifted behind me and I froze. Whoever it was...was going to knock me out as well. Relying on my reflexes, I ducked out of the way and I felt a whoosh of wind. _Missed._

I propelled myself forward and gripped the knife my father had been holding, turning it towards the person. Fear crept up my spine as the figure slowly stepped out of the darkness. A man in his late forties with a sharp nose and wearing a hunting apparel glared at me, holding a wooden baseball bat in his hands.

"What do you think you are doing?" He snarled, pointing his club at me. In response, I pointed the knife towards him, not willing to speak. He glanced at the knife, bemused, and then to the cage where the hummingbird was. I deduced he saw the hole my father made, because his face rippled into different shades of red and he roared.

_Not good._

I didn't pick up martial arts, let alone know how to fight. But I knew how to dodge, from my 'training' I received at school. Bullies zero in on nerds like me after all. I shifted gracefully; under, up, sideways, behind, duck. He was getting worn out, so I took the opportunity to charge in and injure him a bit so that he couldn't chase us, once my parents wake up. My conscience fought, unfortunately, and in the end, I missed.

I ducked as he took a swing. I was shaking, terrified, but I had to move or I would end up like my parents...or worse. I heard flitting and I realised the hummingbird still couldn't escape. Nature came first. First, I distracted the guy by running forwards and then backwards, before flipping around and sprinting towards the cage. Using the rest of my adrenaline, I sawed the hole bigger, and finally, a burst of green flew out.

BAMF.

That was the last thing I saw before everything turned inky.

* * *

I woke again, from my temporary black-out. I panted and examined myself again. Green and purple feathers...was I a hummingbird? But the wings proved otherwise.

And then there was the sudden thought of my parents. Where were they? Had they survived the ordeal like I had? I had to fly. I needed to fly to them. That was the only resolution in mind as I burst into the sky. Somehow, I knew where I was and some way or another, I knew where to fly. There was some sort of GPS locator in me, and I just knew.

Before long, I ended up in a church and solemn chimes of bells urged me to land softly at the entrance. Words, broken sentences, floated past me as I made my way through people clad in black. My eyes shifted nervously, hoping that no one could see my peculiar dressing.

"How awful..."

"-brain haemorrhage..."

"He had anger issues...couldn't control..."

There was a long wooden object and a picture hung on the front. A funeral? For who? And then I spotted them, at the front, weeping. My father cradled my mother's head, a crestfallen shadow etched on their faces. My heart fell as I reached out to touch them. But then, my mother choked.

"Ingrid...Ingrid...don't go..."

Something broke in me as I whipped around. I stared and stared at the picture. "No," I croaked.

It was the picture of a young girl with brown eyes and long fair hair. A clumsy grin expressed the happiness she had in her heart.

That girl, was _me. _

"No!" My voice was louder, sharper, ripping into several octaves. I knelt by my parents, and took their hands. "Mum, Dad, it's me!" I wanted to shout. Or, I tried to. Because my hand sank through like it was air. That's when I realised no one could see me. I ran to different people, shouted in their faces, stamped their feet...but all I did was sink through them like I was nothing.

"_At night I dream of the hummingbird_  
_Feel the beatings of its wings_  
_And if you only had one choice my dear_  
_Would you fly or would you sing."_

My mother's crystalline voice tore me away from my reverie. It was full of sobs, yet her singing managed to maintain its volume.

_"And in a year of new beginnings dear_  
_How do we write the end?"_

Tears poured from my eyes. "Mum, Dad," I sobbed. "But I'm here. I'm okay. Listen!"

_"Here she comes_  
_Here she comes_  
_The hummingbird_  
_The hummingbird."_

I left.

* * *

I was no longer Ingrid. Ingrid had died. But who did that made me?

_You are Tooth Fairy._

My tears stopped. Who said that?

_Remember your memories. You are Ingrid, her soul, but you are Tooth Fairy as well._

Tooth...Fairy? There was a blooming in my chest. Yes, I was Tooth Fairy. The Tooth Collector. I flew over to the pink flowers and blew. The petals fluttered and then green purple feathers sprouted. Wings formed as the balls of feathers took shape.

Yes, I was the Tooth Fairy.

A swarm of green and purple engulfed me, and I laughed, remembering the times my father spun me around in his arms. They were now my helpers, Baby Tooth.

I could hear their shrill cries of joy. "_Queen, Queen!" _

That was how I became the Tooth Fairy, Queen of Tooth- Toothiana.

Guardian of Memories.

* * *

_Jack's fingers trembled as the memory left. He felt everything- Tooth's sorrow, her pain. _

_He glanced back at the other three symbols on the axis. The one beside Tooth's was a rounded figure. Jack knew who he was going to see next and he hesitated for a while._

_And then, he was whisked again, into another memory. _


	3. North

**Author's Note: **So this chapter was inspired by a recent show I saw at Centrepoint Mall... Much thanks go to Deni Yang, whom this chapter is dedicated to. Although he won't see this, I want to thank him for the fantastic Friday (:  
((Oh, um, sorry for the late reply, but this fic doesn't have any Guardian of Childhood element in it. To be honest, I haven't read any of it yet, but I will, once I get to a library...TOMORROW :D ))

Warning: Some religious element. Uh, don't flame me? Please?

Everything written is entirely _**fictitious**_. I don't own ROTG. Stuff written below never happened.

* * *

_The voice was heavily accented. Russian, Jack knew._

_It echoed, as if Jack was in a tunnel, deep and fatherly._

* * *

I loved children.

I loved their infectious laughter, the exuberant joy painted on their faces, and their honest, innocent smiles.

I loved how their eyes sparkle in delight, how easy it is to light up their smiles and how happy they were, no matter the circumstances.

Children, are Nature's wonder. They are that little bundle of joy, that little ball of unlimited energy. Optimists, full of hope, full of joy, full of innocent wonder. Cheerful everyday.

Today, I knew, was going to be one of those days.

* * *

Before I picked up the hoops, my father, General Zolnerowich wanted me to join the military. I was a Russian boy, eighteen then, with a good education funded by his salaries from the army. Back then, being part of the army paid well and gave one immediate nobility. My father's father, and his father and his father before him were all Generals, with an undisputed reputation. The name Zolnerowich spread like wildfire; everyone knew who we were and everyone respected us.

We had to live up to our name after all. Zolnerowich, in Russian, literally meant 'son of a soldier'.

So when I was born, you could imagine how thrilled and proud my father was. A son meant a future heir; a son meant legacy. The thought of free will had never crossed his mind, I guessed. He declared me as Maximoff Zolnerowich: The greatest son of a soldier.

When I grew into my senses, I realised science fascinated me. I liked observing ants as they march to their food source and back to their anthill. I liked firing questions at my teachers until they grew frustrated and equally baffled at my inquisitive outbursts. Back then, science was not very accepted into society.

I believed that science was an answer to mankind's mysteries. Why was the sky blue? How do clouds form? Only science knew.

However, my father disapproved of my "hobby". He asked, or rather, demanded, that I enlist and join the army and dedicate my life to serving Russia. I refused, of course. I would love to dedicate my life to Russia, but not pick up weapons and learn how to throw grenades. What I desired was to indulge myself into science and discover things I never knew. I would make Russia proud with my discoveries.

You could imagine the shades of red on my father's face. He was a General, one of the higher ranked soldiers, and he would not be refused. In fact, he had _never _been refused. He had yelled, roared, bellowed, until our entire mansion shook. But I inherited his stubbornness and I stood my ground. And on that final note, he disowned me.

My mother was terrified of my father, but yet, on shaky legs, she stood up for me. I loved my mother dearly, as she was the one who nurtured my love for science. So when he hit her, something within me exploded.

I flung myself at him in such a rage that all I saw was a burning red. But he was a General, served Russia for thirty years; I was just an eighteen year old boy. Within the matter of minutes, I was bruised and bloodied, and thrown out of the house in tatters.

I was no longer Maximoff Zolnerowich.

I was just Maximoff.

And with that name alone, I grew famous.

* * *

That was thirty good years ago. I was no longer youthful; with white hair and an impressive beard. My tyrant of a father might have passed away, who knew? I was no longer that weakling in my home, unable to protect my mother when she defended me. I had put on weight- a lot of it, you might say- because I now had a good round belly.

You might have heard of the Great Maximoff. Well, that was me, obviously. My love for science never wavered and with it, I invented, rediscovered, a new source of entertainment. Every night, people, mostly children, flock to the town square to catch their favourite show. And that show was none other than me.

I towered above all of them on my wooden stage. I bowed as they gave a round of applause and the children giggled in anticipation. I winked at them as I waved my handmade loop, made out of unused pipes, and dipped it in a bucket of water. With a gentle blow, the water caught on my loop rippled and burst into bubbles.

There was an instantaneous reaction as children tried to scramble onto stage, but I shooed them back politely. They settled for the bubbles that were floating above their heads and each of them squealed in delight as they popped every single of them. I smiled and dipped my loop back in again. The water was no ordinary water. It was mixed with soap and the solution gave birth to bubbles.

I took out a bigger loop and I saw that even the adults could not stop the smiles breaking out upon their faces. I dipped it into the bucket again and when I drew it out, a long trailing bubble seemingly grew out of the bucket. There were _oohs _and _ahhs_ and I smiled again. I waved it around, like some huge serpent coiling around me. When it burst, huge bubbles took its place and floated over to the excited crowd.

"And that concludes today's show!" I announced, bowing as thunderous applause broke out from the crowd.

"Oh, that was amazing!"

"Did you see how the bubbles followed his every command? It was brilliant!"

"Let's watch it again tomorrow!"

I grinned at those comments and I began to pack up as the crowd dissipated. Loops, check. Bucket, check. It was all I needed for a show- and some money. I had left a life of luxury and suffered the consequences. Yet, curiously, I harboured no regret, only satisfaction.

"Mister?"

It was quiet and small, but unmistakable. I spun around and spotted a small girl with freckles and two ponytails at the bottom of the stage.

I knelt down, wearing a huge smile that, I hoped, looked friendly. "Hello there. Did you enjoy the show?"

She glanced up at me, with trembling eyes. "I-it was beautiful," she blurted out. "Is- do- Is it _magic_?"

I burst out into laughter. "Magic doesn't exist, lass. This-" I swept my beefy arm over my equipment. "-is science."

Inch by inch, her irises rippled wider as I demonstrated how it worked. I didn't know if she was able to understand it, at her age of four or five, but she was fascinated. I had never seen a child like her respond so attentively and approach a stranger so confidently.

I knew, immediately, that she was a special child.

And I knew, that she would be my protege.

* * *

I realised that she was an orphan.

Like me, she was forced into a life full of bitter suffering, so I took her under my wing. I taught her tricks and "magic", as she would so fondly put it.

_Maria. Call me Maria._

Maximoff and Maria. We were an instant hit. The girl impressed the adults and children so much, that before long, we collected no more silver, but _gold._ Gold coins! I could hardly believe my eyes as yellow glints flew through the air and at our feet. Before long, we gathered enough money to afford a horse-drawn caravan. We travelled out of town and to other places. We brought our bubble show to different towns and villages, and finally, we were famous in the whole of Russia.

The journey was tedious, but enjoyable. Maria was an unusually active child; we would sing songs along the way and our horse, Bubbles, would snort at our childishness. We even blew bubbles on the way there, gasping in wonder as the sun shone through each bubble, reflection rippling rainbows that brightened our lives.

We started afternoon shows, where the sun would be at its highest and brightest. The wonder of the bubbles increased dramatically as people gazed, stared, gawped in surprise as rainbow bubbles floated past them.

It was two years later. I was finally fifty, a well-rounded fifty. Maria often teased me about that- half a century old, she'd call me. She was seven, but still preserved her child-like charm.

Maria performed alone in our new morning shows. It was designed specifically for children around her age. I used the extra hours to nap in our caravan as she performed bubble tricks that we had been practicing for two years.

It was the third morning while we were in a small town that Maria shook me awake frantically.

"Papa, Papa!" she cried out. I snored, blearily opening my eyes at the sudden intrusion. I frowned slightly.

"Maria," I said. "How many times have I told you to mix an extra bucket of solution? You know how children are when they get excited." Maria always woke me when she had insufficient volume of bubble solution to entertain the children. She was forgetful at times, but this was the third time and it was getting annoying.

"No, Papa!" she shook her head, and to my shock I saw glistening crystals at the corner of her eyes.

"Maria? What's going on?" I jerked awake, thumbing away her tears. "Did we get robbed?"

"No, Papa!" she sobbed. "W-W-they called me a w-w-"

"A wretch?" A bubbling anger surfaced in my chest, growing like a hot sun.

But her reply extinguished my anger and ignited fear. A stone cold fear.

"Witch, Papa," she choked, glancing up at me tearfully. "They called me a _witch_."

* * *

I stormed into the town square, bellowing, "Who dared to call my daughter a witch?"

I had left Maria back in the caravan, in case things got ugly. My eyes burned with a flaming anger as they darted side to side, glancing at the crowd which had silently disappeared at the front of our stage.

"I did." A voice called out.

I whipped around and glared at the speaker, a mousy brown haired boy who visibly squirmed under my gaze. I strode up to him in the most menacing manner I could.

"And pray, tell me, why?" I gritted my teeth.

To my surprise, he met my gaze evenly and returned coolly, "Because what she does is impossible. She captured the sun rays in those bubbles of hers and burst them. The bubbles follow her movements. This is obviously the work of _magic."_

"This is science!" I roared and he flinched, taking a step back. "Magic does not exist!"

"Of course," he answered matter-of-factly. "Magic does not exist, pardon me. On the other hand, witchcraft does."

He glittered his innocent eyes at me. I stared at him in disbelief. Who was this boy that could speak against his elder? His challenging tone had the spike of toxic that crescendo gradually. I was suddenly aware that our "debate" had drawn quite a crowd, more than what the bubble show attracted. With a stunning revelation, I realised that it was the whole town that was gathered here. And they did not look very pleased.

"You speak of lies," I fired back. "My daughter does not dabble in black arts. Witchery is nothing but a lie!" That sent gasps across the crowd.

The boy looked hurt. "Does this mean you do not believe in Christianity?"

"No," I said. "I said-"

"Then why do you say witchery is a lie?" he demanded. "Witchery exists. Witchery is the art of the Devil, Satan himself!" At the mention of that name, murmurs of "Lord, bless me" wove through the crowd.

Smirking, he continued, "When you say witchery is a lie, you indirectly say that the Devil is a lie and therefore, God is a lie, is it not?"

"That is not what I meant!" I protested. "Bless be the Lord, I never said such a thing!"

"But you did!" he shouted. "Everyone heard you say it! You blasphemed against our One True God!" A livid atmosphere began to build.

"This is ridiculous!" I growled. "You say an innocent girl does witchery? An innocent lamb in the eyes of our Lord? Who do you think you are to point your finger at a girl a few years younger than you? You are nothing but a bully, boy!"

There was a stiffening silence. I hoped that I had turned the tide, but it was a futile attempt.

"Boy? Oh, dear Maximoff, you have no idea, do you?" he sneered and this time it was me who took a tentative step back. "I am the Witchfinder! Have you not heard of me? I find witches and hunt them down! I _kill_ them!"

The Witchfinder was a name only to be spoken in whispers. I knew who he was, but I never expected him to be a boy this age! And then I knew, I was done for. Nobody spoke against the Witchfinder unless they wanted a death sentence. I knew, this time there would be no help. He must have heard of me as well, hearing that he knew my name.

"So you know me," I said, my voice hard and guarded. "I must be quite famous for my name to reach your ears."

"And Maria as well," he eyed me carefully. "I heard of your..._tricks. _Bubbles that trap the sun rays. I knew instantly it was the art of Satan! No one captures the light of God!"

"I taught the tricks to Maria!" I said loudly. "But these bubbles use science! They are science! We do not capture the sun rays; the sun rays shine_ through _them! This is all an misunderstanding!"

"_You _taught Maria? So you "invented" this science?"

"I did not invent science! Science is all around us! Your sight, speech, the wind, the sky: it's all science!"

"_Enough_!" he hollered with such a reverberating power that my jaws clamped shut."I will not hear your blasphemies any longer! God gave us sight, speech, the wind, the sky, _everything_! Science did no such thing!" Then he smiled the most displaced smile. "And science will not save you from your fate either."

_Fate...?_

"Maximoff Zolnerowich-"

How long ago had it been since I last heard my name?

"You have been sentenced-"

No.

"-to death."

A single word floated through my mind.

A dear single word encased in a tear.

_Maria._

* * *

"Papa, Papa, no, Papa!" I heard her sobs echoing, but I knew she wasn't there. I gave her instructions to leave.

_"No, Papa!" she begged. "Let me die with you! Take me with you! I don't want to be alone again!"_

_"Maria," I said softly. "Listen to me." I retrieved a bag of money from my belly and her eyes widened. "Papa-"_

_"Take it, start a new life, far away." I repeated it at least three times. "Stay alive. You won't be alone- Bubbles will be with you. She will be your companion."_

_"No, Papa, please..."_

_"Maria." I shook her firmly. "You will never be alone. Remember what I told you before. Follow the North Star. Don't stop. Keep moving forward. You are my strong, strong daughter."_

_"Papa..." Sobs racked her tiny frame. Tears threatened to fall out of my eyes like an endless waterfall, but I held them back. I had to be strong. For my daughter Maria._

_"Maria, look." I pointed to the shining North Star in the distance, flickering. She looked. "I will be with you. Spirits of the dead fly to Heaven and are reincarnated into stars. I will be that fat star right there. So follow it."_

_She threw herself at me, hugged me, cried onto me. And I held onto her._

_My dear sweet daughter, Maria._

Now tears fell beneath the black hood.

_My brave Maria._

I felt the noose tightening around my neck.

_My wonderful daughter Maria._

The ground gave way.

_I love you._

* * *

I remember a light at the end of the tunnel.

I remember opening my eyes.

I remember the bubbles.

But most of all, I remember Maria.

The elves were gifts from Man in Moon. The yetis, well, were an accident. Long story cut short: elves decided to shoot rockets, yetis got caught in the crossfire, and I had to step in. Curiously, yetis were good with their hands so I recruited them. The elves and yetis have annual toy contests though.

The first country I visited was Russia, my home. I chose reindeers as my mode of transport, natives to my home country, so that I would never forget where I came from. I popped in and out of every chimney, leaving gifts of wonder I created. With my reborn hands, I could create anything out of nothing. Ice crystal trains that chugged on invisible train tracks in the air; robots that marched on tables with a spin of clockwork and rubber bubbles that could bounce on floors.

But as much as I roamed the world, I often wondered about Maria.

I never saw Maria again.

Everyone called me Santa Claus.

I was Santa Claus, to the children and the adults alike.

To Maria, I was the North Star.

To myself, I was North, the Guardian of Wonder.

* * *

_Jack stood, numb with shock and sorrow._

_Were all of the Guardians' pasts so sad and terrible? He couldn't move himself to touch the next symbol._

_He didn't want to pry into their pasts; it seemed like he was invading their privacy. With a shaking arm, he pushed himself away from the Globe, hoping to pull away from the secrets each Guardian concealed. But then, a feathered hand caught him as he turned to leave._

_"Jack?" A quiet voice froze him for a brief second._

_He turned back, to see Ingrid- no, _Tooth, _he corrected himself mentally- clutching his arm. Her violet wings fluttered behind her back as her eyes stared at him, full of concern._

_"T-tooth!" he stammered out, his mind reeling with excuses. "Uh, what, um, it's a beautiful day! I should probably go and people snowballs-I mean, snowball people." He quickly pried himself free and started to zoom off, before North's voice called out to him. He ignored him, and leapt out of the open window. Or at least, he _tried_ to._

_A golden whip lashed out and drew him back to the ground gently. _Oh, not good, _Jack gulped. He met the familiar gazes of Bunny, North, Sandy and Tooth Fairy as they bore down on him. He was almost certain he was going to get scolded. _

_"Er, sorry about the frosty elves and the angry yetis," he burst out. "Uh, I can unfreeze them right now actually. Uh give me a-"_

_"Jack. What did you see?"_

_The question caught him off guard as North locked gazes with him. He was going to reply with a nothing until North sighed. _

_"You saw it, didn't you? The past."_

_Jack gave a sheepish nod. "Although I stopped at yours," he admitted feebly. Then, "I'm sorry about Maria."_

_There was a pregnant silence. "Haven't heard that name in a long time," North chuckled weakly. "Well, you better continue with the rest then." He gave a good slap on the shoulder as his eyes darted upwards._

_"Hey wait a sec-" Bunny tried to interrupt but North shot him a look. "Jack must see everyone's. It is the tradition." A pause. "And then, it will be his turn."_

_The Guardian of Fun stared at him confusedly. "My turn? I don't understand."_

_North sighed. "Just finish what you started. Then we'll talk."_

_"But-"_

_"Go, Jack."_

_Numbly, the winter spirit flew up. Inspecting the next symbol, he understood Bunny's unwillingness._

_He felt guilt weighing down upon him, but nevertheless, he pressed._


End file.
